Carry On My Wayward Son
by space merman
Summary: Just a small ficlet of how I imagine Zexion would go about his day, mixed with a small headcanon I've been toying with for a while. Lyrics are from the SPN 200th episode version of "Carry On Wayward Son"


_Carry on my wayward son_

 _There'll be peace when you are done_

 _Lay your weary head to rest_

 _Don't you cry no more_

Zexion gazed out the large skylight-resembling window at the glowing, pearl white moon shaped like the heart they all longed for. He'd been graced with no missions today, which he'd have to thank Saïx for later. He sat on one of the long couches, and looked around wearily before looking at his hands.

Sliding his eyes closed, he channeled his focus and energy into his palms, exhaling softly. His hands warmed pleasantly, and he soon found cool, circular metal resting in his palms.

Opening his eyes, he sighed in relief as he saw the Keyblade resting in his hands. Why had he been chosen? There was no way he could be a legitimate Bearer, it made no sense. It made sense for Roxas, he was the Nobody of a Bearer, but Zexion?

The only others who knew about this special technique were the Superior, Saïx, and Vexen. Zexion not only knew it was crucial to tell them, but he _trusted_ them. He didn't even know Saix as a Somebody, but there was still a calm, inviting aura about Saïx. Zexion could trust him.

 _Once I rose above the noise and confusion_

 _Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion_

 _I was soaring ever higher_

 _But I flew too high_

Zexion sensed the presence of a Dark Corridor and immediately the Keyblade vanished. He hastily picked up the book he's left resting on the cushion next to him, opening to his bookmark and trying to ignore whoever had come back.

Ugh, seawater. Xigbar and Marluxia. They'd been given a mission in Atlantica.

Zexion barely had the time to register their presence when his book was snatched from his hands. "Hey!" he snapped, glaring at Xigbar, who was flipping through the pages.

"What is this, that stupid, faggy Twilight everyone likes? It would fit an emo like you," Xigbar sneered.

Zexion quickly tore the book from the Freeshooter's hands, closing the book neatly after replacing his bookmark. "It's called _The Hunger Games_ , and it is a very interesting piece of literature. And I assure you, it is nothing like Twilight. It is very well written, Miss Collins is a very talented writer. Much better than Miss Meyers."

"Neeeeeeeeeeerd," Xigbar hissed into Zexion's ear. This action earned him a swift _SMACK!_ to his cheek. His _scarred_ cheek, mind you. Xigbar recoiled and cried out. "OWWWWWWWW, YOU GOT MY SCAR SIDE!"

"s'what I was aiming for," Zexion murmured, making his way to the kitchen.

Xaldin stood in front of the stove, the aroma of basil and-what was that? Burnt leather and…? Sand? Yuck. Must've gotten stuck in Agrabah. Better than seawater though. The Lancer gave Zexion a knowing smile and held out a piece of whatever he was cooking out, smiling brighter when Schemer's lips snatched the food from his fingers, giving an approving nod.

"Good?" Xaldin asked.

"Chicken?"

"Salmon. Your favourite."

" _Ienzo's_ favourite."

"You are Ienzo though. He's still apart of you, and you will be him again, once we get our hearts back," Xaldin said, poking Zexion's nose gently. "You're always going to have traits of Ienzo, and that shows you still have traces of a heart, that you're still human."

"Whatever." Zexion stomped to the fridge to grab a can of peach nectar, but his face was flushed with a tinge of pink, his chest feeling warm and stomach fluttery. Hurrying out of the kitchen with his drink and book in hand, he headed up the winding staircases to his room, thankful he didn't run into any other Organisation members.

 _Masquerading as a man with a reason_

 _My charade is the event of the season_

 _And if I claim to be a wise man_

 _It surely means I don't know_

Resting against the headboard of his bed, Zexion opened his drink and resumed reading aloud.

" _The table has just clicked into place when a figure darts out of the Cornucopia, snags the green backpack, and speeds off. Foxface! Leave it up to her to come up with a clever and risky idea! The rest of us are still poised around the plain, sizing up the situation, and she's got hers. She's got us trapped too, because no one wants to chase her down, not while their own pack sits so vulnerable on the table…"_

Xaldin traversed down the halls and up the winding steps until he found Zexion's room. Politely knocking, he called out softly. After receiving silence, he tried the doorknob, finding it unlocked. Slowly pushing the door open, so as not to intrude on anything indecent Zexion might be engaged in, he quickly poked his head in.

III smiled as he gazed upon the smaller male, asleep on his bed, book in his lap, drink can empty. Xaldin swiftly and silently bookmarked Zexion's page and placed a hand on the Schemer's shoulder. Earning a stir and a small whine, he smiled as VI opened his slate blue eyes, looking up.

"Dinner's ready," Xaldin whispered. "You hungry? It's salmon." Zexion nodded, trying to move himself upward. He was stopped by Xaldin's hand on his shoulder. "Hold on." The hand moved to his forehead, brushing away his bangs. "Vexen said you haven't been looking too well these past few days." After a moment, he nodded. "Saïx must've noticed it too. You've got a mild fever. I'll bring dinner up to you, get comfy under your blanket and rest, child. You must be weary."

"But I haven't been on any missions!" Zexion interjected weakly. He made to move, but was immediately stopped when a wave of pain coursed his temples.

"See?" Xaldin pointed out. He lifted the younger boy gently, sliding him under the dark covers of his bed. "Just lay down and rest. I'll bring you dinner. Try to get some more sleep, okay? I'll bring you some water and medicine when you're finished eating." He grabbed the empty can and headed toward the door.

"Wait," Zexion called softly. Xaldin turned, raising an eyebrow. "Thank you...Dilan."

"Anything for you, Ienzo," Xaldin smiled, exiting.

 _Carry on my wayward son_

 _There'll be peace when you are done_

 _Lay your weary head to rest_

 _Don't you cry no more_

 **Dilan looked down when he felt a tug on his coat. Violet eyes met bright blue.**

" **What can I do for you, Ienzo?" he asked kindly. Ienzo pointed at the pot Xaldin had been making dinner in. "You wanna try some?" Ienzo nodded.**

 **Xaldin grabbed a teaspoon and dipped it in the pot and knelt down to Ienzo. "Careful, it's hot." Ienzo opened his mouth, closing around the spoon. He chewed for a bit, then swallowed. "Is it good?" Xaldin questioned. Ienzo's eyes lit up and he nodded. "It's called gumbo. I put some salmon in it just for you." He poked Ienzo's nose gently, earning a small smile from the Apprentice.**

" **Now go let the others know dinner's just about ready, okay?" Ienzo shook his head, pointing at the cupboard. "You wanna help me set the table?" Ienzo nodded. Xaldin broke into a wide grin. "Alright, up we go!" He lifted the boy into his arms, chuckling as the Apprentice clung to his coat like a lifeline. "I won't drop ya, don't worry. I'll always keep ya safe, Ienzo. This I promise ya."**

 _Carry on…_

 _ **END**_


End file.
